June 16th, 1989
Rolled in from London at five this morning and met dad on the stairs! He was off to work and I was on my way to a deep slumber.
The night out with Stephen and Sebastian was just the tonic and I must’ve lost at least a stone from dancing in a club called Heaven, where the music was so good there was no way I could sit down.
I haven’t eaten much since I came back from France and I don’t even feel hungry. When I put my shorts on today, they felt much less snug, a feeling I could get used to.
Granda is still here, which is great. He really is one of a kind and I enjoy every minute with him. He has so many questions about flying and the aircraft I work on and the places I go and he seems quite enthralled by it all. It’s crazy to think he’s never flown.
This afternoon, while we were sitting in the garden, the conversation got around to Stephen and Sebastian.
“Awful braw looking laddies that came to pick you up last night.”
“They’re both really handsome aren’t they.”
“Och aye and awful nice with it.”
“You’re only saying that because you encouraged them to have a wee whisky with you.”
“Aye well,” he said, smirking. “The tall one, wit’s his name again?” he asked.
“That’s Stephen. I met him on the training course for the other airline I worked for, before I joined British Airways.”
“So the laddies work on the plane with ye?” he asked.
“Well I have to say hen, Stephen was it you said?”
“Yes Granda, Stephen.”
“I think he has a wee twinkle in his eye for ye.”
I let out a hearty laugh. “Granda, Stephen is gay.”
“Och I know, that’s what I liked about him.”
“Oh aye, it’s plain to see he’s a very happy laddie!”